Burakkubokkusu
by The Chai Addict
Summary: [AU]By intended coincidence we met—he the assassin and I the bystander caught up in something bigger than realization would allow. Purposefully, he took me from my bar. Mistakenly, I grew to love him. [VT]Rating will rise.
1. Chapter I

Burakkubokkusu.: Chapter I

AN: And here I am again, back on square one with five chapters of experience under my belt and five chapters to redo. Thank you everyone who gave me past support and I apologize if this isn't much better. Oh, and this was originally Bokkusu no Pandora, under my other name. Anyway…

"Beware lest you lose substance by grasping at the shadow." .:Aesop:.

I fingered lightly the ebony designs on the outside of the black box without looking. There was no need to see that which was already etched on my heart and in my mind, those snaking trails along the outside of the box I'd already memorized. The gold paint lining the lid still lingered in chipped patches along the edges, revealing the black dark as licorice beneath. The little thing fit nicely in the palm of my hand, big enough to contain a large marble or bird's egg, yet not so big as to fit one of those chocolate truffles I'd eaten once before in my younger years. But who knew what was in it?

My mother gave me the box when I was just a small girl, mere minutes before Death had stolen her from my father and I, and she told me never to open it. Not until I had fallen in love, and I was sure. At the time I had been barely into my teens, and I recalled nodding ferociously at her last request, not realizing what I had promised. Something deeper than even she knew, I think.

Then I met Cloud Strife.

Well, it really wasn't as romantic as all that. We knew each other; we were neighbors after all, and not strangers who bumped on the street, nonetheless, we met. Oh, yes, I fell into love. I fell into a deep, gaping pit of it, wide enough to swallow me whole and it did, but it was glorious. God, it was wonderful. But, still I left the box unopened. In a way, I viewed it as a kind of Pandora's box—a black box—, with some evils within, just scratching at the insides for me to open it by mistake. And I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if Cloud was The One.

And he wasn't.

He left, and the box remained unopened. He ran away from everything. Life's troubles. It's hardships. It's glories. Me. Was I truly that terrible? Still tracing the patterns, tears stung my eyes, and I finally moved to put the box away, but paused. Evil spirits seemed to building an outer coating on the container. I could barely take the retched thing out of its safe place without crying. I feel so guilty when it comes to Cloud. I was the one who drove him away. Yet curiosity tore away at my insides just to see. One peek.

But that would kill me inside. At least what remained.

_Just put the damn thing away,_ the sensible part of my mind said and I obeyed. That part always spoke up when I got particularly emotional. It was that small voice that restrained me from opening the brass latch and seeing for myself what my mother had kept so faithfully for me.

"Tifa?" Mollie, my friend and coworker for Seventh Heaven, my bar, tapped lightly on the plywood door that separated my room from the rest of that bar. "I'm going home. You okay?"

"Yeah!" I strained to keep my voice level. "I'm fine." I stood and straitened my appearance without consulting a mirror. I knew what waited there—definitely not the lovely appearance I wished. There wasn't much of an audience to entertain on the floor, but the bar's familiars who could barely make me out through the effects of alcohol, much less care about my face. Many learned when first entering the door that you didn't flirt with the hostess (or the other waitress), comment on her body, or refer to her in vulgar terms without consequences. I enforced that they knew I owned a bar not a whorehouse. I demanded utmost respect—they weren't there to demand service of me. They were served out of the goodness of my heart.

Sniffing once more, I pulled on my apron and slipped out of my room for the late shift.

--

I'd always believed in spirits. Evil ones. Like the Demon God, or the Grim Reaper. Just omnipotent beings that held my life in their hands and twisted it to suit their liking as if I were a marionette on strings. Whenever bad things started happening, I would do wise to expect worse.

That's why I should've recognized something was amiss the night _he _came. Just by the little acts of bad luck that occurred. Like the bad weather in the slums of Sector Seven. I hated the cold with a prolific passion, and, of course, I lived in the Sector that allowed the most bad weather under the plate, meaning freezing winters (even with snow that, at times, found ways to slip beneath the pillar) and roasting summers with nearly no spring or autumn in between before it became winter again. Like the city itself, the weather seemed to loop around and back around on itself with no apparent end. I missed Nibelheim dearly, and its climate. Ironically, that place would never be home for me again.

Late morning I slipped out to run some errands before helping Mollie with the afternoon shift, and so I bundled up sufficiently for the trip. If you happened to pass me in the slums you might think a pile of clothes or and Eskimo was meandering about in the city of Midgar, but most everyone seemed to be dressed to match. I was warm, what else mattered?

The misfortune continued beyond the bad weather to slipping on ice in the street and the Sector 7 shop being completely out of the alcohol I needed. Cursing under my breath, I made and extra to Sector 6, and then to Sector 5 where they also hadn't the bottle I required. Refusing to further my search under the plate, I took the late morning train to upper Midgar, the land of aristocratic snots and wealth. Surprisingly, the air carried a hint of warmth in the upper streets, and I removed the large portion of clothing, which merely created another thing to carry.

Finally at a liqueur store on a high-to-do street near Shin-Ra headquarters, I was able to purchase a couple bottles of the alcohol at a much cheaper price than in the slums, although the money spent on the train to and from the plate would far outweigh any Gil saved. Of course, the mishaps didn't stop with ice and beverages. When I exited with my arms full and the wind catching wildly at my long hair, I managed to attract the attention of a man. Not _him_, but a powerful character in the mad scheme of things that followed.

"Hey, Sweetheart." That silky tone seemed reserved for men in his business, which dwindled among prostitution, abused substances, and all those other wicked things Shin-Ra declined to stand against and let run rampant. These men prospered with deceitful ways, while I was forced to live in the slums with honesty. The twisted economy drew my hatred toward the Shin-Ra back into a blazing fire, making me glad I was a partner in the anti-Shin-Ra organization, AVALANCHE. Unfortunately, that organization was on hold at the time for a small place called Corel. I could live with that, having my own bar to worry with.

"Can I help you?" Even though I contained a fierce anger, my will trembled weakly. He smiled openly.

"Why, yes," he replied, "yes, you can. I was wondering at the quality of the alcohol you bought. Always on the look for new flavors, I am." It was a pathetic pick-up line, if you would call it one.

"I hate it, but you are more than welcome to buy it." I smiled closemouthed. "Wish I could be more help." I attempted to slip off into the crowd toward the train, yet I knew I wouldn't arrive at the bar before Mollie came to open up. I also knew escape wasn't so easy.

"What do you do?" He pushed even further, catching my arm and causing my discarded garments to fall free. "Oops." Sighing, I gathered them up again, feeling his approving gaze on me as the hair on small of my neck to rose.

"I'm really sorry," I said again, coming up, "but I really have to go—"

"I hope I'm not acting out of line here, ma'am, but you're truly beautiful," the man interrupted. I scoffed. These words had long since lost their glamour, and he must have been blind to say such honeyed words.

"Thank you. Bye." I walked away, feeling the Demon Lord was warning me of something more he had planned of that meeting. However, I soon forgot it as life resumed seemingly in fast forward. Days were never long enough, and I continuously exhausted myself attempting to keep up. Soon, I knew, the stress would prove to be too much, and an emotional breakdown would ensue. It'd happened before—nothing new—but now was the time to suck it up. Like always.

Once more, I worked the late night shift in the smoky room that smelled very strongly of alcohol; no matter how many cleanings it had endured. The bar was nearly empty, as it usually was on Monday nights. Only the frequent customers were still there. Some I knew personally. Other's preferred to binge and not worry about acquaintances. I didn't mind. It was easier for me to serve drinks without getting into conversations.

Experience over the years transformed me into a pretty good waitress, so, at this late at night, I could keep the clients still up happy with refills, and get a good amount of cleaning done. Dusting shelves, mopping floors, washing tables, organizing the stock and making a list of what needed to be replenished. This time of almost complete solitude was just the recipe for me to unwind after the day.

While I ran a dirtying rag over the counter, the bell above the door shook out a monotonous tune, announcing the entrance of a new client. I looked up, and my feminine intuition kicked into high gear the moment I saw the man. Or at least his clothes and posture. He walked tall and straight, wearing a full black suit—complete with red tie and glossy shoes, and an overcoat. His stride was that of authority.

"Can I help you?" I asked, with my usual plastered smile that hurt the corners of my mouth. He didn't sit. He wasn't there for a drink, and a tinge of fear grew in my breast.

"Yes, actually, you can. Here." He nodded his head of short cropped hair. His voice was husky, and a gloved hand produced a manila folder from within the folds of his coat. I reached out, against my better instincts, and took it from his outstretched hand. I began to open it, but he caught my wrist.

"I'd highly advise against that." His tone told me he wasn't joking, and his voice was low, barely above a whisper. "You tell anyone you have it in your possession, and, I promise, you won't live to repeat the mistake. There will be a man coming in here about midnight. Give it to him, and then forget this ever happened. Simple really. If you don't-"

"I'm dead." I finished, rolling my eyes. Who was he? "I understand." I didn't need to see his face to feel the piercing stare he was giving me. Then, without another word, he turned and left the way he came, and I remained behind with another Pandora's Box in a different form.

If only I understood how luck ill favored me.

--

_He_ arrived, as promised, at twelve o'clock sharp. Haunting dark eyes stared out from his handsome face beneath a scarlet headband-like diadem, eyes that almost seemed a wine red. Cloud had often told me that eyes were the windows into a person's soul, but this man… either had no soul or had some icy barrier set up around it. I could see no emotion in his gaze.

But he saw mine.

"Where is it?" He spoke plainly, and clearly as the bar had emptied out an hour before. His voice was strong and chilling, but also…I fumbled for the folder under the counter of the bar, my fingers trembling. He frightened me down to my very core.

"Here." I said, more courageously than I felt.

Of course, what happened next was what happened next. How could the Demon God let this chance of torturing my soul even further pass by? He just couldn't.

A single sheet of white paper slipped out and fell onto the counter, directly in front of me. What was I supposed to do? Pretend as though it hadn't? No. My eyes watched it, as though mesmerized by its pure intentions, until it pasted itself before me. And I saw a name. Barret Wallace.

All that man had to do was to look at my face to know. He didn't even have to see my little eye-windows to figure it out.

And he hit me.

It wasn't hard, but it did sting. My body was almost numb anyways. Without thinking, without even considering what my sagacious voice had to say, I clutched the man by his shirt and brought my face close to his. I put two and two together. I knew he was an assassin. I knew why he had Barret's name.

"You _can't!_" I shrieked into his face. His ruby eyes were steely, and I wondered if dark feelings were all they showed. "You can't kill him!"

He hit me again, and dragged me out from behind the counter. I was crying, and trying to hold the tears back at the same time. Bring our faces even closer together, he hissed, "You have broken top security restriction. I have to follow the regulations."

In a quite graceful manner, he withdrew a revolver from its holster, and I noticed for the first time the non-human quality about him. An entrancing golden claw—or was it a gauntlet?—replaced the area where his left hand and forearm should have been, and I realized with a deadening dread that this man _was not human._ He was going to murder me in my own bar with no sympathy because he was a…

"Monster!" I screamed, attempting to push away from him. He was too strong, but my comment seemed to have hit a nerve. Placing the barrel of the gun dangerously close to my temple, he spoke softly.

"You will never say that again." His tone was chillingly final.

If I had been about fifteen feet away from him, almost at the door, with his gun in my hands, and my own fists raised in preparation to fight, I might have responded with, "Make me" or some other immature comment, but, being things as they were, I kept my mouth shut.

"Who is this 'Barret' to you?" He asked, still speaking low as though warning me.

"He's my friend." I gritted my teeth. He had a bit of my hair in his strong grip of my front. "Please, don't kill him. He has a daughter."

I seriously doubted that meant anything to this man. He was getting paid for blood.

His gaze lingered on my face, probably on the swelling his right hand had left, before dropping lower. I wanted to spit into his eyes for looking at me as though I was object, but the revolver's tip was driving into my head, keeping my saliva to myself. His claret orbs reached my own once again.

"I'm supposed to kill you." He said evenly. "Can you fight?" I wasn't sure where this conversation was going. Was he implying that he would take me with him? Or did he want me to duel him before he shot my brains out for a little entertainment? I couldn't bring myself to lie however, so I nodded my head.

"Excellent." He exhaled, and his balmy breath rolled over my face. At least he had some warmth to him. "Get what you need. I think you will serve as a fine hostage."

Hostage. Great.

No way.

The second he released me, I swung my leg up, catching his claw and bruising my toe severely, but the firearm rolled away across the floor. We both dove for it, and I reached it first, only before his own hand clutched my wrist and the golden arm pulled it from my fingers. His body crushed my own, and I gasped for air, trying to free my bosom. Dragging me up again by my hair, he brought our faces close again, and, after tucking the gun away, gripped me even tighter.

I didn't know what the hell I was thinking, endeavoring to take on an assassin. I swear, some maniac had taken over my body, and now the real Tifa was back to pay the price.

"I offered to let you get whatever is precious to you." His nose was almost touching mine. I hadn't been this close to a man since…Cloud. Wait. This was no man. In one fluid motion he threw me away from him. I hit the countertop, freshly cleaned and still damp, with a dangerous force, my head cracking against it as I slid across and into the shelves of colorful bottles behind. They rained down, shattering on the floor, leaving a wonderful mess for me to fall into. He had me by the head once again; _God, _he was quick. "If this is your reaction then I assume there is nothing?"

"N-no." My voice broke. "I just need one thing."

Still gripping me by my hair, he led me back to my room. How he knew it was mine? I'm not sure, but it was the only door in the bar besides the entrance. "Get it." He ordered shoving me in. Once he left me free, I went to the secret place that my box was hidden, and pulled it out, completely aware of his eyes on my back. A small bag hung on my bedside, and I stuck it in there, before shouldering it.

"I'm ready." I stood tall, knowing good posture hid a great many emotions.

But cursed eyes. Eyes are the betrayer. And this man seemed to be a reader. I didn't even know his name.

After he organized his papers and put them away, we left, locking the bar up. I didn't even leave a note, and he didn't prompt me to. At least Mollie might figure out I had been kidnapped.

_Kidnapped?_ That little voice spoke up. _You're walking out the door with this stranger. He's not forcing you to do anything. Admit it. You want to get away._

The biting cold and the prospect of a black miniskirt and an equally small white shirt with no coat was enough to shut it up.

"Was there love once? I have forgotten her.

Was there grief once? Grief is yet mine."

-Robert Malise Bowyer Nichols


	2. Chapter II

By one in the morning, the man had successfully navigated through Sectors 7 and 6, and found the exit to Midgar in Sector 5. As I said, even in the slums a biting wind could tunnel its way in, and I was freezing, my body long past numb. He seemed immune to the cold and my own discomfort, but still I managed to keep up with his long stride. I think moving was what kept me awake.

Of course, that didn't nullify the fact that I was exhausted. My eyes were drooping, and I wasn't sure if my legs were even there, much less walking. But they were. As he inserted a keycard into the slot that would open the door, I watched him in a sort of drunken fascination; my mind nearly shot. He was so tall, dark, and… handsome. That obsolete cliché twisted my frozen lips into a sort of half smile, and a strange bark of laughter erupted from them.

The assassin looked at me, almost as though he thought I was crazy. So what if I was. Who wouldn't be after what had happened?

"Move." He ordered once the doors had opened, giving me a small nudge. If I had thought the sheltered slums were cold, it was nothing compared to the open plains. A thick blanket of snow and ice lay as far as the eye could see in the dark of night, and the chill factor from the wind brought the temperature below zero. The numb in my limbs transformed into a deep ache within me. I could feel the bite of the ice carried in the air stream.

The exit closed behind us, and my captor continued walking in the direction of Kalm. I could barely stand the thought of walking all that way almost naked as I was. My eyelids were heavy with fatigue, and my body was swollen. I forced one step. Then another.

Sleep. What a magnificent gift. My mind was wandering to strange things. Like Cloud. How odd was that? His outline was almost visible to me: his blond hair and azure eyes. Just as always. His blissful touch, caressing my skin… cupping my face…

"Don't fall asleep." Who was that? That deep voice? That wasn't Cloud. But… perhaps…

"Cloud," I whispered through heavy lips. There he was, moving towards me. I tried to step forward, only to find my feet captured. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. "Don't…" I felt a drop on my face, different from all the other pain. Who was crying?

"Stay awake." There was that tone again. What was so special about staying awake? I could do whatever I pleased. If I wanted to… to…

"Cloud!" I cried out, louder this time. His image was fading. He was walking away. I reached out to him, and my hand came into contact with something…soft. And warm. I cupped it, savoring its feel. Cloud.

I think it was I who was crying. And I began sobbing.

"I thought you were gone." I murmured through tears. And there was that voice again.

"No." No. Not gone. With ever last drop of willpower, and every single ounce of strength I had, I pushed myself free and forward into Cloud's arms.

Staring up into his strange blood-colored eyes, it never crossed my mind that Cloud's eyes were crystal blue.

Smiling, I whispered, "I'm going to sleep now."

And I did.

---

My fingers were outlining the box again for the trillionth time. Except the shapes were different. They had changed. Had I been in my right mind, I most likely would have jumped up from my slumber in fear that my mother's gift had been altered, but I didn't. I continued tracing.

I could hear many sounds, but my dozing intellect couldn't place them. Snapping. Moaning. Thumping. Whispering. My eyes stayed closed. Just a little longer. Just a bit more sleep…

Then something on the box pricked my finger. It hurt like hell, and I knew it had pierced the skin. Still, I was in no hurry to wake. Flexing the fingers of my other hand, my lids fluttered as I took in my surroundings. Snapping fire. Moaning wind. My thumping heart. Whispering…? The licking pain in my hand reminded me of why I had awoken.

With hooded eyes, I twisted my head to the right and saw that man lying not too close to me, but not so far away. It wasn't my box that I was feeling, it was his golden claw and I had pricked my finger on one of his sharp digits.

I didn't remember how we had gotten here. I could barely recall exiting Midgar. But I was warm.

And the whispering? It was his breath. His inhale and exhale, repetitive yet different each time. This man certainly was an odd one. If he was supposed to kill me, then why did he keep me alive? Certainly, there was no need for a hostage or any sort of leverage in his line of work. Murder and collect your dues. Leave no witnesses. But here I was.

Yes, definitely odd.

I rose up on my elbows, vaguely away of the tingling itch in my swollen skin. The place of our dwelling was a rather large cavity in the side of some rock, with a thin opening that served as an entrance. The gunman had built a fire out of who-knows-what, but it was still going. I wondered what time it was or even what day it could possibly be.

I sat even straighter and a black cloak slid off me. It was his. Glancing over at him again, I noticed he had taken off his shirt as well, and it was on me. What kind of assassin was he?

The gun. The revolver. Here he was, sleeping, leaving his hostage a perfect opportunity to turn the tides against him. I wasn't much of a tide turner, but I knew what it felt like to be the victim. Silently, I crept over to him on my hands and knees and hovered over his still form, watching for any signs of movement. He was still.

Perusing his body, I saw the hilt of the weapon glinting in its holster on his belt. I did my best to avoid his naked torso, which was riddled with muscles like smooth stones, and I reached out with my fingers to lightly take hold of the firearm. The light of the fire caught two letter scratched into the metal. VV. Initials? No matter. I moved meticulously slow.

However he was lightning fast.

A quick, sharp pain in my back let me realize how swift he really was; I was under him, my back to the ground with his revolver once again pressed into my temple. A horribly ironic sense of Déjà vu washed over me. It was that maniac girl again, taking over my body and doing ridiculous things like trying to fool a natural-born killer, and then running away when the going gets tough, leaving the real Tifa to deal with it.

"You certainly are a strange one." He said. I guess he wasn't going to kill me. More irony. I had just been thinking the same thing about him moments before.

I smiled innocently up at him. He shook his head, his black hair swaying. I hadn't noticed how dark it was before. I also couldn't help but realize what a situation we were in. Me, clad in his shirt, underneath him; he, clad in no shirt, perched above me. And, yes, he was muscular. In fact, my stomach was fluttering for some damn reason.

"I have a question." He said, his gun still at my head. I didn't say anything. "Who's Cloud?"

Well, whatever I was expecting, that certainly wasn't it. That cold sense of dread chilled my blood. How did he know?

Ignoring the gun, ignoring his face, ignoring the fact that he was in control of the circumstances, I arose, and crawled out from under him. I could feel his surprise radiating in the room. And then his anger.

His cold claw grabbed me from behind, twisting me around to face him. I was irritated as well. What right had he to pry into my life? None. So, Maniac Girl assumed control, and I moved to hit him. He released his claw for a moment to catch my wrist. Was I a weak thing or what? I thought he would hit me with his other hand, he undoubtedly moved to do so, but stopped.

"What is your name?" It was a question, but also a command to tell him. I quailed, and my ire extinguished under the force of his own.

"T-Tifa." He seemed satisfied. Backing away, he released me and I fell backwards onto my ass. I gathered up what little courage I had to inquire, "And yours?"

He paused, examining my face as though deciding whether to tell me or not. I drove on.

"I know it starts with a V. You might as well tell me, I'll figure it out anyways." I turned my nose up indignantly, feeling a lot like an old friend of mine named Yuffie. The silence went on until I was sure he wasn't going to answer. Then…

"Vincent." Although I would have never been able to guess that particular name, it suited him. He just looked like a Vincent. "Now, who is Cloud?"

He couldn't drop it.

"He was just an old love." I snapped, turning away and raking a hand through my nightmare hair. "How do you know about him anyway?"

"It's kind of hard not to when you were screaming his name into my face." I looked at him sharply. He was lying; he had to be. But… how else could he know? What else had I said? "Just an old love?"

"It doesn't matter." I went back to my hair, facing the wall. He was mocking me, almost as though he thought love were silly. The very idea crushed my heart. I could care less what this man considered love to be, but if I ever had such feelings…

I removed Vincent's shirt and held it out to him. This man had way too many deaths over his head for me to want to get involved with anything that had his essence upon it. That and his bare torso was driving me insane. He didn't reach to take it.

"Keep it. We're staying here for a few more days." A few more days?

"How long was I asleep?" The very suggestion of being out and defenseless with this man was unsettling.

"All yesterday and today. Dawn won't be for another couple of hours, so you might as well go back to sleep." He wasn't meaning anything, but I was still suspicious.

"No." I retorted. "I'm not voluntarily going to just doze off while you- you-!" He raised one eyebrow, not smiling.

"I really could care less about you." His words came out a little louder than I think he intended. I must say, they stung a bit like his slaps.

"How would I know?" I shot back, but he didn't reply. As much as I wanted him to, I knew he wouldn't. I threw his shirt at him, but it dropped between us.

While I attempted to unknot my long russet tresses, I surveyed him out of the corner of my eye. He tended to the fire via a fire materia, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but still… I wondered if he would come after me if I tried to escape.

_Of course he would._ My inner voice said, _he could kill you because of what you know._

I got up and went to sit across from him. He didn't even look at me.

"You got to ask me something personal, and now it's my turn," I said squarely. His frosty gaze met mine.

"This isn't a negotiation." He said. "And you are not in any position to ask anything."

"What happened to your arm?" I disregarded his last comment. He stiffened.

"The result of bad choices." He answered.

"That's too vague." I countered, feeling more like Yuffie every passing second.

"What? And you're answer wasn't?" He looked back at the fire.

"What does it matter?" I said under my breath, watching the flame tongues lick up. "He lied." If Vincent heard me, he didn't respond.

---

The night terrors were relentless, and same with the snowstorm. I knew Vincent was aggravated because I couldn't travel well in the snow, and every day was setting him further and further behind, but I didn't care. He didn't seem about to kill me.

But I couldn't sleep.

Soon, I was frightened at the very prospect of closing my eyes from being haunted by the nightmares. Every horrific thing imaginable waited for me in the blackness of sleep. I never said anything to Vincent, more to protect my reputation than anything, but I had a growing feeling that he knew.

I grew angry at everything, almost on the verge of tears. I could do nothing right; everything Vincent said or didn't say was enough to drive me over the edge. And I couldn't take it anymore.

It was dark, and the raging blizzard outside seemed at its climax, while I fiddled with a fire materia inside our cave. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stay focused, and I couldn't get the embers to relight as Vincent had so successfully done during our entire stay here. After the twentieth effort, he rose and took the red orb from my hands. He seemed calm, but I could tell he was aggravated. That's what too much time with one person does to you, as I was equally annoyed with him.

"Fine!" I snarled. "Since you're so much better at it, you don't need me!" I was worn out, I was hungry, I was thirsty for something other than snow water (preferably a bottle hot sake), and I was furious. Without another word, I strode to the entrance and out into the snow. Remember that breakdown I mentioned? Well, here it was.

Of course, the moment I got out there I regretted it, but my pride was not about to let me turn back. Just keep walking, I told myself, and weeping ensued with a sense of self-loathing. I was no good, I should just die. No one cared, no one at all.

"Tifa!" Vincent was yelling at me. He was mad now, maybe he would kill me. I didn't turn back, but continued trudging along blindly. "Tifa!" He sounded closer, and turning around, I saw that he was running towards me. On second thought, I preferred freezing to death over his rage. And I bolted too.

He's always been faster, though, so he caught up and grabbed my arm in no time. I tried to jerk away. He's always been stronger too. The floodgates within me broke loose, and all my pent up feelings came out in a rush. The stress at the bar. The trauma of the kidnapping episode. The resurface of Cloud's memory. I collapsed at his feet, his hand still hold my arm up.

"Just let me die, Vincent!" I wailed, sobbing hysterically. I hadn't acted like that in years, but I didn't care. "Please, I want to die!"

"Why?" A simple question that held no emotion.

"I don't deserve to live! I-I killed him." I covered my face, unaware of the cold and the depth of the snow. "I killed Cloud. He's dead. Dead."

Emotions can sometimes have more effect on a person than alcohol. My mother once told me that, and I never quite understood what she meant, until now. I was almost delirious with my own feelings of hatred and sorrow, spewing words that had no meaning at this assassin. I cried even harder. I truly wanted to pass away from this earth, and Vincent wasn't letting me. He was being one selfish son of a bitch.

With a rush of adrenaline, I pulled his gun from its resting place and put it next to my temple as he had done so many times when intimidating me. Only this time it was a threat to him. Closing my eyes, I gritted my teeth with determination. This was the only way.

"Stop this!" Vincent shouted, striking me hard across the face. It hurt more than a sting. I dropped the gun in surprise, and he did nothing to catch it. Instead, he whisked me up and carried me back to the opening in the rock, paying no attention to my pleading and weeping. I did not fight; I was too shattered to move. He was the one in control.

"Please." I whispered brokenly into his chest. "Please. Vincent." He stared ahead. I quit sobbing, but let the tears run silently down my face as I watched him. Why was I still alive?

His face blurred. I was going to lose him to the night terrors after all.

---

His kiss was sweet and longing.

"Good morning, Tifa." I smiled in my sleep, before opening my eyes to his face. He was grinning down upon me like a young child. How I loved that smile.

"You sleep late." He said, pulling back to allow me room to get up. The thin sheet slid down my bare body as I did so.

"I was dreaming." I replied, searching the floor for my nightshirt.

"About what?" He asked, watching me dress.

"About you, Cloud. I always dream about you." He smiled and laid a light kiss on my lips.

"I hope so." He joked. I laughed. "You won't forget me, will you?"

"Of course not, silly." I pulled my pants past my hips. "Am I too fat?"

"No!" Cloud caught me in his arms. "See? You fit perfectly." He kissed my neck.

"I should go home before your mother gets back." I said, pushing out of his embrace. He twisted his face.

"She's coming back today isn't she?" I nodded. "We need to get a secret place, where we can be with each other without having to worry about parents."

"Ha. I wish such a place existed." I said. "Oh, yeah. Its called adulthood."

"No, seriously." Cloud thought for a second. "The Shinra Mansion could work."

"Forget it, Cloud." I kissed his nose. "You'll just have to survive."

"I don't think I can." He grinned.

I smiled in return.

The sun turned dark, and the room distorted.

It was raining, pouting buckets of water from the sky. Someone up there was in desperate pain, weeping great soggy tears.

Where was he?

"Cloud?" I shouted, thoroughly soaked and cold. Not just physical, but a spiritual frostiness. "Cloud!"

Here.

I followed my sense love, out of the town and into the mountain pass. I was scared of the night and the rain. Where was he? I wasn't crying, but I think my heart was. I imagine a woman's pain for a lost love is one of the greatest forces ever.

His silhouette loomed from the shadows; I saw his blond hair, his indigo eyes. Relief tingled slowly through my limbs, and I walked towards him. Cloud. He watched me for a moment, the life from him gone. He gave me a small smile, turning away from me.

And the rain took him.

---

I slept for another two days straight, and by the time I awoke, the storm had passed. Vincent didn't say anything about our prior experience, but it was heavy upon both our minds. He only spoke once in the first hour of my waking, and that was to tell me we would leave tomorrow. After my dream memory of Cloud I realized just how different the two men were. Vincent was nothing like Cloud had been. And Cloud had been nothing like Vincent was.

Either way, I would not miss this cave. I needed to bathe terribly, and couldn't wait to get to Kalm where showers could be found. Just thinking about it made me want to wash off even more. The snow seemed awfully inviting, although freezing as well. Vincent was working with the fire again.

"I'm going outside." He looked up sharply, almost mistrustfully. "I'm not going to go crazy; I just want to… clean up."

"You're not going alone." He said, and my mouth dropped open.

"Yes, I am." I replied. "I don't need you to supervise me while I'm washing, thank you."

"There's no water." He answered, working with the fire once again.

"I'll use snow. Do you mind if I use your cloak?" I picked it up without waiting for a response and strode to the entrance with him right behind me. Turning on my heel, I faced him equally. "Listen. I'm not going to go find your gun and commit suicide, I just want to clean up, and that requires a little clothing removal, which you, assassin or not, do not need to see. Do you understand?"

"Now you listen." He retorted, "As I have previously mentioned, I have no interest in you or your body. The only thing I care about is that you don't try another escape attempt, because that just makes my job a lot harder than it needs to be. So I am coming out with you, not to ogle your body, but to keep you from doing what you are renowned for doing. Do _you_ understand _me_?"

"If I'm making your job so hard, then why don't you kill me?" I laid one hand lightly on my hip and smirked. His face remained stoic, and he made no effort to respond.

I turned on my heel and allowed him to follow me outside without another word.

The man was _impossible._

---

That evening I opened up my bag again and pulled out the small box, dimly conscious of Vincent watching me. I didn't want to speak to him at the moment. I knew allowing him to "keep me from what I'm renown for doing" was a mistake. But still, it was too late for regrets.

I cupped the box in my lap, and traced the latch. Sometimes the curiosity became overwhelming. Sometimes I wished that I had just opened the damn thing when Cloud and I were together. But I knew I would regret it. Waiting was so much more satisfying. And of course, there was my fear that the box was a trap. Would my own mother do that to me? I had no answer. There wasn't one.

"Eat." Vincent said, handing me a loaf of bread and an energy bar. My rations. I noticed he ate nothing himself. He never ate anything. And he didn't meet my eyes either.

At least he had a little decency.

The silence lasted, and tension filled its place so thickly, the air seemed heavy with it. I wanted to say something, but it wasn't my place—my mouth did open once or twice, but words failed. _He_ was the one who should be apologizing. My stomach felt as though it might reject any food I would put into it, so I put my food to the side, and lay down with my back to my captor. The box remained before me, so I watched it without really seeing it.

"Don't force me to make you eat." Vincent said.

"I'm not hungry." I said back. I didn't feel like sleeping either in case those nightmares decided to return, even though I hadn't had one since that night, and food with warmth often did that to me.

"Yes, you are." He contradicted, and I curled up into a ball. How would he know? He had no emotions. I heard him move behind me, and he dropped my food before my face. I closed my eyes, trying block out everything. Such an ancient trick that one was, I remember playing childish games with it. Seeing how long it took to be completely unaware.

Like when Mom and Dad are fighting. All that insult hurling and physical abuse. I was particularly good at drifting away to a world where that little blond haired boy awaited me. He was always smiling kindly at me. My friends always teased that smile, saying there were no brains to that boy, and I laughed right along with them. Peer pressure is a dangerous thing. They always scoffed at the girl who would one day love him. Funny how that girl was me.

I loved him.

And here I was, once again, unable to leave the cave. My mind was trapped with this man. I was too tense to think of anything else, he was standing right behind me, and I would like to see someone else try it, if they believe it to be easy. Also, Cloud had long since faded from my fantasy world. I couldn't see his smiling face. Only that lesser smirk he had given me that last time I saw him.

I preferred Vincent to that.

"You're crying." The gun wielder stated. My lids opened quickly and I raised a trembling hand to my face. I guess I had managed to lose myself, and now silver tears wetted my cheeks. I was embarrassed that he would see me cry again. What an opinion he must have of me, capturing a crybaby for a hostage. I had never let so many tears fall before, this cave or this man or both were wearing on my nerves. Stress. That's all it was.

"I'm not." I said, rising up and discreetly wiping my face. I knew he saw through my lie, but made no comment. I favored that.

"Eat." He said and left. I glared at his back and stuffed my victuals into my bag along with my box. Best to save them for later, when I really needed them. Feeling compelled to say something to Vincent, anything at all; I blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"There's only one reason I'm staying with you." I spoke loudly and plainly. He ceased his walking with his back to me, but didn't turn.

"Because you can't get away?" He scoffed. His sarcasm was thick, yet it wasn't enough to evoke my anger. By now, I had come to learn that the only way to best a clear head and a sharp wit was with a clearer head and sharper wit. Whether that was profoundness was in some philosophy manuscript or not, it should have been.

"I will stop you, Vincent." I said through gritted teeth. "You will not kill Barret."

I have excelled in divulging my mind in past times, and continued to do so, but only to make a fool of myself in front of this man. The cave rang with his wintry laughter that didn't seem human. I considered calling him 'Monster' again, but the memory of his threat in the bar was still fresh in my mind. He truly meant what he said, and only a fool would make the same folly twice. I was no fool.

Without my even realizing it, he was suddenly in my face, a small smirk playing on his lips behind that large collar of his. Staring fiercely back I wondered what he saw. Was I able to be the stonehearted person he was with no emotion but determination? He was squaring me up, and I was thankful my posture was already as straight as it could possible be. Still, being a whole head short than he, I had to lean back to watch his eyes.

We stood like statues for two minutes, my mind counting each second and trying to hold my body in its position. Vincent didn't seem to be having quite as rough a time as I. He barely blinked.

"We're leaving early." He said quietly, almost… it was certainly odd. "Go to sleep."

I doubted neither he nor I slept a wink.

---

There was little that I did to this chapter—a spelling error here, a grammatical mistake there—nothing too major although I won't guarantee it's as perfect as perfect could possibly be. It never will be. Hope you enjoy it as much as the first time you read it (unless this _is _your first time), and leave a comment if you're compelled to do so (consider this your compelling comment); criticism is as appreciated, but flames will be used to make udon noodles: the ultimate motivator.


	3. Chapter III

Kalm reminded me of a picture I had once seen in a fairy tale storybook, swathed in the deep layer of snow, and its people all bundled up in Yuletide apparel. Vincent and I seemed a bit out of place both of us in ebony, but I doubted he cared. And his self-confidence helped to boost my own a little.

He strode without delay towards the inn, me trying my hardest to keep up. Even though he had so generously lent his traveling cloak to me, the hem was soaked and I was too cold to generate any body heat. After hiking, nonstop all morning and afternoon, the cheap inn of Kalm seemed liked heaven. I swear, Vincent was a machine with no feelings or cares. Then he paused, his human hand resting on the door handle, and his crimson eyes glanced around twice before coming to mine. Gripping the back of my neck with his golden claw, he pulled me close into what might have looked like a kind of lover's embrace, but the sharp pains on the back of my head told me otherwise. His hold of my long hair pulled my skull back so I had no choice but to look into his eyes.

"Do _not_ try anything." He hissed into my face, and I gritted my teeth. Whether he was aware of it or not, a clot of my hair would be coming out with his metal appendage. "You must realize that if you do, innocent people could be harmed." I pressed my teeth together even harder as he released me, and stumbled away, catching the sign before I fell. He opened to door and strode through the entrance without a second glance, and I followed a few seconds after trying my absolute hardest to stay calm and appear normal.

What was I expected to act like? His beloved? A businesswoman? A snort rose in my throat at the thought of both, but I suppressed it. The innkeeper watched us cautiously when I stepped in behind my captor, although he tried to hide his nervousness by riffling through his guest log, and I looked towards Vincent. His posture was, as always, uncannily straight, and his head was level with his apparent arrogance so I mimicked him, deciding upon his accomplice no matter what the profession. Leave that choice to him.

"Can I help you?" The manager didn't even look up from his log when he asked that question.

"Yes, we need a room." Vincent said softly, letting the man know he hadn't the option of refusal.

"Of course." Still not looking at us, he turned to the wall behind him and searched for a spare key, selecting number four and handing it over the counter. I noticed Vincent took it with his normal hand, keeping his prosthetic limb well hidden, even without his cloak. I knew I was a mess with long, greasy hair, shadowed eyes, and no makeup. I hadn't even thought to grab some with my box.

"Please enjoy your stay." The man said, turning his back to us as Vincent growled a low, "we will."

I didn't hesitate to follow him up the stairs to the second level.

---

Heaven was true to its word and provided me with clean bed linens; a bathroom with soap, shampoo _and_ conditioner; and a bathrobe. I could barely wait to get out of my grimy clothing and finally bathe after one entire week. How Vincent kept himself so nice remained a mystery to me, and I grabbed a robe and a couple fluffy towels that smelled of lavender.

Vincent chose the bed closest to the door, mainly, I think, to prevent me from running, and removed his shirt, but only put it down after it was neatly folded. I didn't even hesitate to look at him as I bounced jovially to the woman's lair, but his deep voice stopped me.

"Leave the door open." I gritted my teeth, and turned slowly to face him.

"No, thank you." I kept my temperament low and moved to go in the bathroom again.

"Leave it open." He said again, walking over to a large window located next to the unexploited fireplace. "I will not tolerate any more of your idiocy."

"How the hell would _I get out of the bathroom_?" I raised my voice one tone.

"The window." He pointed with his claw and watched me carefully with hooded eyes. "I've already seen you, so there no need to be difficult." How a man could say that and not flush is beyond me. But of course, I had already decided this was a monster I was dealing with.

"You didn't need to bring that up." I said through my teeth, while blushing several shades. "Fine, I leave the door open _a crack_. If you don't like it, suck it up."

"Halfway, or all the way open. One or the other, but nothing less."

I gave him one of the fiercest glares I could muster and then closed the door a little less than halfway merely to satisfy my childish anger. Vincent didn't seem to care, and even though he was too busy staring outside, I undressed out of his vision. He didn't seem like the type that cared for my body, but still once intuition kicked in I was stripping behind the door.

The shower was only second rate, I couldn't seem to get the water to the right temperature for more than two minutes at a time, and even after I had coaxed every drop of shampoo and conditioner from the miniature bottles it was barely enough for a thorough washing. Still, I was ten times cleaner than before, and I felt like a new woman.

Walking out of the bathroom with the white robe wrapped tightly around my otherwise naked body, I noticed Vincent immediately still looking quietly out the window where I had last seen him, staring off into the distance. Thoughts of attack flashed through my head, but they were suppressed. The killer had already warned me against fighting, and I had seen him at his worse. He probably was at his wits end with me, and who knew if there was another weapon hid on his body. A knife perhaps?

Instead, I went to my bed and tested my weight on its springs, sitting directly behind Vincent. There was something about him that tugged on the back of my mind, almost as if he reminded me of someone…

One particular spring squealed under the pressure I exerted upon it, and the man turned quickly, a half astonished look on his face…a look he hastily concealed when he saw me.

"You're finished." It was more of a statement than a question, and I lowered my hands, which had impulsively jerked up in my defense.

"Yes." I said coolly, still a little annoyed at him. "And I want to wash my clothes. What were you looking at?"

"The mountains." He beckoned to the hazy snow-covered peaks off in the distance. The setting sun reflected its red-orange glow off the white surfaces, and darkness was slowly creeping up behind them. I had a sudden image of Mount Nibel, and my fingers went to my chest instinctively, finding the robe failing to cover my worst memory. Raising my eyes, I saw Vincent's own claret orbs watching my fingers so I pulled the cloth more securely around my neck in an embarrassed fashion. But he caught my hands, opening the cloth to bare the whole hideous length of the puffy skin, while I took a moment to stand in astonishment, motionless.

"Where did you receive that scar?" He inquired, strangely quiet. I pulled away to jerk the robe shut across my chest.

"Bad choices." I mimicked his inexplicable answer, furrowing my brow in a frown.

The memory of my father's death weighed painfully on my mind, and an aching lump formed in my throat, forcing any other hope of talking far away. Thankfully, Vincent had no more questions, as I supposed he recognized my response, but he did mutter, "You had better get some sleep."

---

"Tifa! Get up!" My mother's voice echoed up the stairwell as I groaned and pulled the covers tighter over my head. "It's past ten!"

"It's also Saturday, Mom!" I shouted back, jerking the blanket off. "I kind of wanted to sleep in for a change!"

"You have chores, Tifa Lockhart." She countered sternly. "And I don't want to hear another word about it." I sighed loudly enough so that she could hear downstairs before searching through my draws for clothing, and dressing quickly. I had barely set foot in the kitchen when my mother pointed to a basket of fresh bread and ordered, "Deliver that to the Riley's, and don't spend all day about it."

I gave her a look of exasperation, but she didn't see it. Couldn't I at least have breakfast? The vexation turned to a glare, yet I still picked up the basket, being sure to slam the door on my way out. Cranky old hag.

Mrs. Riley wasn't even home when I knocked, but her annoying son was with his overeager expression at the sight of me. He grinned sheepishly from ear to ear and turned beet red, all the while stumbling on his words.

"Tifa- what're you- why-?" He flushed even more. I was too mad at my mom to be polite.

"This is for your mother, from mine." I snapped, shoving the food in his hands. The boy was to thin to be cute, like that blond boy that lived next door to me.

"O-okay!" He said fervently, nodded his head one too many times. He was a nobody. Without even saying farewell, I turned on my heel (ensuring that my hair flicked in his face) and stormed off, intent on being late to return home, but not spending anymore time here.

Nebelheim was in the running for the most unexciting town on the planet for the third year in a row, so naturally there was no interesting way to spend my morning. I had heard of places like Midgar—a new town that was a bursting metropolis—and Rocket Town where there was an actual rocket being built, but the most attention this village received was the construction of some reactor or another being built on Mt. Nibel. Yippee.

My feet, however, carried me faithfully to a source of interest—and fear—to everyone: The Shin-Ra Mansion. The place had been there for as long as anyone could remember, but no one ever recalled it ever being in use. I was positive it _had _been inhabited at one time and I also had this strange feeling that its inhabitant still lived there—although no one had gone in or out of the mansion in years. My hands clung to the rusted gate as I hung lightly upon it, staring intently at its darkened—and broken—windows, almost positive someone was there and trying to catch a glimpse of them.

My neck prickled.

I whipped around to face a boy, clutching my pounding heart.

"Good god, Cloud." I gasped, irritated at him catching me unaware. "Were you trying to give me a heart attack?"

"No," He smiled. I hadn't realized what a nice smile he had, or that his voice had changed. It was deeper, but it suited. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Well, ask it then," I demanded, shifting my eyes to the mansion again. Something had moved in one of the upstairs windows.

"Will you, uh," He was suddenly bashful, looking at the ground. I wanted him to look at me with his azure eyes. Instead of teasing him, I waited patiently. "Will you meet me beside the water tower tonight at midnight?" The words gushed so quickly from his mouth his voice cracked and he blushed even deeper.

A part of me—the nasty-teenage-girl part—wanted to say, "In your dreams!" and turn in his face, but the other part—the this-boy-saved-your-life-once and hey-he's-really-cute part—forced the yes to roll off my tongue. And I was glad it did.

"Okay." Cloud smiled again, and offered to walk me back to my house. I agreed-again- but first cast another glance back at the house. Vincent returned my gaze.

---

The pleasant aroma of breakfast greeted me as I returned from the strange dream, although it was forgotten immediately. Vincent was absent from the room, but I didn't care at the moment. Thankfully, he provided food, much to my delight- a large tray of it.

I stuffed my face—pardoning the expression.

He came into the room again, a cloth bag with a grocer's insignia on it hanging on his arm, and I was somewhat relieved to see him. His emotions were shielded.

"You found the food suitable?" He asked monotonously. I nodded without a smile. It didn't match the atmosphere. "We will be leaving as soon as you're packed. I hope to reach Junon by nightfall."

"Junon!" I spat, astonished. "You do realize how far that is, right? And the thirty feet of snow outside?"

"I understand our situation perfectly." He countered steely. "There will be no argument. Pack your things." I hadn't the strength to argue.

After checking out at the front desk with the manager persistent at avoiding eye contact with us—_Vincent_—we left the quiet town of Kalm without saying one word to each other.

I was not encouraged in the least to see that the snow upon the ground had not abated one bit, although there was not a cloud in the sky to promise more. Walking proved no less difficult than before, and I kept a constant watch on my feet, trying to match my stride with Vincent's footsteps in the snow, which were quite big considering the little effort he seemed to be putting into it. One might have guessed that cavorting in foot-and-a-half deep snow was a favorite pastime of his.

Pulling his long cloak more securely around me, I glanced up for a moment to look at his back. Well, to look at him, actually, but a view of his back was all I received. With me having his coat, all he was left with was his dark shirt, which I had worn not-so-long-ago. I had accomplished wearing most of my captor's wardrobe lately, excluding his pants but I hoped not to be in them anytime too soon.

His hair was so long, too, and messy, but it suited him. Just like his name. Everything about him fit him, yet he seemed ignorant of it. He must have been the most secure man I knew, and he probably thought I was the most _insecure_ woman he had ever met. Did he consider me a young girl? Was I even an adult in his eyes? How old was he exactly? He certainly didn't look anything above thirty, but looks can be misleading. I never would have guessed—so many years ago—that a handsome, silver-haired SOLDIER, who appeared civil enough, would have been the one to murder my father. And almost succeed in killing me too.

We walked on in silence for about and hour and a half. I didn't complain even once about the snow in my shoes, the wind messing up my hair, or even the layer of ice building on my body; and neither did Vincent. Not that I expected him to. I wanted to talk about something, though, so perhaps then I would subtlety bring up one of those topics, so he could get mad.

Gathering my courage, and strangely putting aside my pride, I spoke, "Why do you want to kill Barret?"

His response was delayed. "It is my job. He has been assigned to me."

"But, why?" I persisted. "Why do they—whoever they are—want him dead?"

"I do not ask. It is not my business."

"Yes it is. He's your target; I think you have a right to know."

"If I know too much, I may find _myself _as a target."

"Shin-Ra… doesn't have anything to do with this… do they?" I asked cautiously. I didn't wish him to think I knew anything. He paused for a second, and looked back at me. So much for trying to be discreet: he knew I knew.

"Why do you ask that?" I waited this time, thinking my answer carefully through.

"I just knew he had some trouble with them a while back." I shrugged it off, continuing to walk and brushing past him. He caught my arm and twisted me around to face him. I was used to this position.

"Tifa, don't tell me you were involved in some way." I watched his eyes, seeing some cryptic emotion floating in them, and nodded once. How odd it was to hear my name coming from his mouth. Would he kill me now? "Oh, God."

"I'm sorry," I gushed, not exactly sure why I was apologizing, but feeling the need to apologize anyway.

"Of all the people." He said, talking more to himself than to me and raking a hand through his unkempt hair. "Of all the goddamned people for Ryang to-" He stopped, realizing a name had just escaped his lips. Every fiber of me screamed to disregard it, pretend he hadn't said a thing, but no. Maniac girl— best friend and backstabber to Tifa Lockhart— blurted, "Ryang?"

Vincent looked as though he three options, rifling through them quickly in his head: (option a) tell Tifa to shut up and perhaps even erase her memory; (option b) slap Tifa and then tell her to shut up and/or erase her memory; and (option c) kill Tifa and not having to worry about option a or b.

Good ol' Vincent with his uncanny originality. Apparently there was an option d I overlooked: _explain_.

"The man above me." He explained. _The King Pin. _I thought.

"Wait." Another realization hit me. "Was I selected to give the papers to you?"

"Yes." That simple answer struck me mute. I didn't know what to say; there were people in _his _line of business that knew I existed. And now I had just given away to one of their probably most revered henchman that I had been involved in an anti-Shin-Ra organization, which was enough to have someone killed apparently.

"Please do not tell me you were a member of AVALANCHE." I wouldn't lie to him, yet he continued before my reply, "Just say no, Tifa. Say no and I will not ask you again." _He really did not wish to harm me_. I raised my eyebrows and dropped my jaw in surprise. All this time I thought he needed me for something ­_else_, something work related, however, now I understood. Or partially understood. He wanted me for his own reasons. He wanted me alive, too.

"But why Barret?" I inquired. Vincent groaned and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Say it, Tifa!" He shouted, catching my jaw in between his fingers. I hated lying all the more when he was forcing me to do so.

"Why?" I couldn't make myself say it. His grip on my jaw increased.

"Say it." His voice was dangerous now, and I closed my eyes.

"No." I wasn't sure if I was telling him no, or saying what he wanted. He assumed the latter, and I didn't mention anything more on the matter.

"He has a daughter." I raved on. Vincent maintained walking and released his hold on me. It took me a few moments to catch up physically and mentally. This man switched so quickly it was hard for even me to keep up. My friend, Yuffie, was a lot like that. "She's not really his daughter, her real father was killed by the Shin-Ra. Barret's taken care of her ever since. You can't take him away too! She's only eleven, what will she do? Go to Midgar and sell her body at the Honeybee Inn?"

"That is not my business." He addressed simply.

"You mean you don't care!" I yelled. "How can you be so heartless?"

"You would be too if you lived as I did and still do." He whispered softly.

"Vincent, you have no idea what I have gone through!" I answered sharply.

"I understand more than you know… Lucretia." Lucretia? Was that my new nickname? Certainly didn't seem to suit or have any obvious relevance. Still, I couldn't help but ask silly questions.

"What did you call me?" He was upset and angered again; I could see it in the way he held himself.

"Forget it." I didn't forget it though. I remembered it and continued to ponder it in our silence as we crossed the frozen quagmire and into the mountain pass.

---

A/N: Recently I've wondered if I've changed Vincent too much. Yes, his personality is quite different, his speech isn't as formal as it was in the game, but…oh well. I'm really too lazy to rewrite the whole thing. This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful Kikyo Tamayume, who is awesome, and hopefully the next one won't take as long to edit (considering what little time this chappie took in the end).


	4. Chapter IV

I half expected the cave's exit to be blocked by a cascade of snow when we arrived at the gaping hole in the mountainside, but to my usual astonishment—and delight— the snowstorm had only touched the eastern side of the continent with its wrath. The western terrain only received a dusting of barely an inch. Vincent was obviously happy as well, due to our speed would increase considerably. I even believed we would reach Junon by late afternoon.

The sun shone a magnificent yellow above our heads, yet it did nothing to warm the frozen day. It only blinded us on the snow's glossy surface. Once again, I had begun to regret the contents I had chosen to bring along. At least I had become accustomed to eating very little, as long as I had breakfast and dinner, surviving without lunch was plausible. Perhaps soon I could go without any food at all, like Vincent. And even if I were hungry, I still had my rations from our time in the cave.

Nothing eventful happened for the remainder of our trip, besides clouds that rolled in from the north and the few flurries that fell, but it wasn't nearly enough to slow us down. And we kept our silences. Quite honestly, I was still waiting for his retort to my comment about his heartlessness, and possibly an explanation as to why he called me Lucrecia. It sounded like a female's name… Possibly an old love? Was that name an opening in Vincent's past life? The one, which I had no idea about?

Although my predictions about entering Junon by late afternoon were incorrect, I was nonetheless happy to see the town when the phenomena of sunset commenced in the sky. My body felt fully frozen, but my mind still produced an array of memories about the town. First sights, arriving, finding a transport. Nothing notably special, but all left an impact. I remembered my excitement toward coming to Midgar. I figured it would be the best thing that that happened to me, and my teacher Zangan was whom I credited. He saved me from a number horrible fates; although Midgar may have been one he condemned me to. At least I was still alive.

Checking into the inn was a routine, but a teenage girl attended the counter and she took an instant liking to Vincent. Why that bothered me, I'm not sure, yet it did. Her flirtatious behavior made me want to slap her across the face and tell her to bother someone else, however, I left the situation to the gunman. He could deal with it in any way he wanted.

"I'm gonna need you to sign right here." She leaned across the countertop, smacking her gum and exposing a good half of her breasts to us both while pointing to the evident line. The situation became awkward, and I realized Vincent didn't want to leave any evidence of his presence. This was my golden opportunity.

"Here, I'll sign," I said sweetly, smiling broadly to both. "Why don't you go get our room, _honey_?" I assumed he caught on, as he relieved my shoulder of the bag.

"And don't forget to put your new name." Acting clearly wasn't his area of expertise, yet I got his message. He wished me to sign under a psuedonym.

"Sure, thing!" I smiled even more, and turned back to the log. Not taking any chances I wrote Shera Lockhart. If someone were looking for me, then hopefully this would leave him or her a clue. And Vincent did not know my last name so I could easily lie to him.

"So are you guys newlyweds?" the girl asked, chewing even louder.

"Yes." I really hadn't intended us to be so, but he was the one who implied it.

"Where are your rings?"

"His family didn't believe in rings." I lied, laughing a little. "They preferred tattoos."

"Tattoos? Where?" I lessened my grin.

"It's kind of inappropriate."

"What are they?"

"Rings." I answered, wishing the teenager would shut up and stop asking questions.

"So… his family didn't believe in real rings and you guys got _tattoos_ of rings instead?" She repeated.

"Isn't that what I said?" My tolerance was coming to an end.

"Sounds… sadistic." She said. "My grandfather doesn't have a room for newlyweds, but I'll push your beds together for you."

"Oh, no, that's alright." I put my palms up.

"Nah, I don't mind." She slipped from behind the counter and moved to the door through which Vincent had just disappeared. I followed closely behind, and shrugged to Vincent when he glanced up in surprise.

The room was small and quaint with two beds, a bureau, and a wardrobe closet. At least it was warm and cozy. The teenager struggled a bit with the bed on the left, groaning as she joined the two as we watched without offering to help. I suppose we were both a bit perturbed. It was one thing sleeping on the floor of a cave together; sleeping in the same bed was a whole different scenario.

"There!" She announced, rising up and clapping her palms. "Enjoy your _night_." I desired nothing more than to reach over and deck her one for what she was implying. Vincent said nothing even after she left, and I moved to pull the beds back apart.

"Leave it." He commanded. I looked up at him, not sure of what I was hearing.

"What?"

"It will make too much noise." He sat down on the right side. "What name did you sign under?"

"Shera Lockhart." I told honestly. He accepted my answer without question, but he continued to watch me. I knew he had something more to say.

"Tomorrow morning a ship will be leaving Junon and heading towards Costa Del Sol. I intend for us to be upon it. We will arrive about midnight and rent a room at the hotel there. The following morning we will depart towards North Corel were this Barret Wallace currently resides. After our business is completed,"—_our _business?—"We will return to my residence, which should only take us a day or two. Understand?" I didn't acknowledge him; there was no need to tell him that he would not be killing Barret. I still had my hopes that somehow, possibly, he would be stopped, yet I had no idea how I would do it. When the time came, however…

And another thing bothered me. His plans still included me even after Barret was "assassinated", something along the lines of keeping me captive at his house, wherever that was. I remembered vaguely at 7th Heaven when he mentioned something about me serving as a "fine hostage". A hostage for what? His own amusment? Maybe his organization needed me for something more?

Vincent brought my dinner, which I ate without comment. All our walking had left me exhausted, and my mind had been given its fair share to ponder. That, as well as my irritation towards the gunman returned.

I slipped out of my shoes and into the inviting covers on my side of the bed, intent on sleeping immediately. Unconsciousness took me before Vincent also came to bed.

-

Darkness still claimed a hold on the outside world when I awoke not feeling rested enough. The room was deathly quiet, and my rustling in the sheets seemed louder than usual. Was I alone? I couldn't hear Vincent's breathing, and as much as I wanted to reassure myself of his presence I wasn't about to go groping around in the bed for his form.

_Something_ was there, however. It didn't feel… human, but I was no medium. What right did I claim to judge what species the thing was? My skin broke out in gooseflesh.

I squinted, attempting to adjust my eyes to the darkness to no gain.

"Vincent?" My voice had an abnormal tremor to it. I wasn't afraid… was I?

Then… it kissed me.

I don't mean the simple touching of lips, but it—whatever _it_ was— _collapsed_ onto me, crushing me on the bed, its teeth clashing against my own and its tongue moving with the sway of its mouth. Momentarily shocked and stunned, I could only lay there trying to piece together what was going on, and tell myself that it was a dream that just felt so _real_. Its mouth moved away from mine, and the lips caressed my cheek for a second. My brain finally caught up.

"GET OFF-mrph!" A hand muffled my words. The lips, which had shifted to my neck, pulled away and whispered softly in my ear, "_Lucrecia…_"

I lost it.

Kicking and screaming I twisted every which way, jerking free of whoever-it-was, and tumbling to the floor. Pain seared my neck, and I clapped a hand to it, whimpering. The charisma of the apparition was gone. And I could see.

The moon glistened brightly outside, like a silver ball suspended among beads of stars in a black web, why hadn't I noticed it before? Vincent lay stiff in the bed, clearly in a deep slumber, one that all my thrashing had done nothing to disturb. Pulling my hand away from my neck, I stared in bewilderment as my own blood dapple my fingertips. I'd been bitten.

Suddenly alarmed, I inched quickly bad into the bed, trembling all over and expecting to be attacked again. What were that thing's intentions? Certainly not rape, I mean, there was a man—hypothetically speaking—sleeping right next to me. Maybe, however…

My gaze crept onto Vincent, slightly distressed that I might find his chest not moving, and that he might be dead, murdered—no matter how hard that was to believe.

Slowly, his lungs expanded, raising his breast.

Relief flooded through me, tingling in my hands and dizzying my thoughts. I didn't think about how beneficial his death would be, I didn't think about his mission to assassinate my friend, only the sweet, lingering confusion that he lived. Cautiously, I laid my head down upon his chest, and attempted to match my intake of air to each and every one of his melodious, wonderful breaths.

-

Morning came early as usual, although my internal rebellion to the outside world refused me to open my eyes and accept the dawn. The balmy room was peaceful and quiet, which only increased my feelings of resentment. Groaning, I shifted my head slightly and exhaled deeply, aware of a strange rhythm surrounding me, becoming a part of me. My breathing. He was imitating each of my breaths to the second… as I had done last night.

Grudgingly, I forced my heavy lids open to gaze into crimson eyes, but didn't make any effort to move any further than that.

"What are you doing?" His voice rumbled heavily in my ear, which had maintained its resting place on his chest throughout the entire night. Flushing a shade that corresponded with his irises I jerked my head up with a rush of adrenaline, and turned to get out of bed. Vincent caught my elbow in his hand and brushed my hair away from my neck to reveal the recent wound.

"When did this happen?" He inquired, sweeping away the dried blood. I looked at my fingers where blood also resided, and then back to the gunman when I noticed the ring of red on his chest.

"Must have hurt myself last night." I brushed it off; Vincent would believe me insane if I told him the truth.

"It has the appearance of a bite," he examined, "don't lie."

"I was attacked…last night." I explained, shrugging my shoulders. "Whatever it was thought I might be tasty. I guess I proved to be otherwise."

"Where were you?"

"Right here in bed." I raised a brooding finger to my cheek, "although I think I was bitten when I fell out."

"You expect me to believe you were assaulted here in bed?" A skeptical eyebrow climbed his forehead. "Without waking me?"

"Yes. You looked dead."

"Did you see who it was?"

"No, I didn't see _what_ it was."

"It was not a human?"

"It didn't _feel _like one."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said. I mean, it had a human body—I think—but these little voices were going off inside my head telling me that thing wasn't human. They were like screaming, '_not human! Not human!_' but I didn't want to trust them because there's this other voice that sounds like you, saying, '_this is stupid. Why are you so goddamned ignorant?'_ Yet, I couldn't hear it because my female instinct was squealing, _'Oh my, God! This motherfucker is about to rape you! Get off your fucking ass and do something about it!'_"

I concluded my story with the sudden remembrance that this man had no sense of humor. Vincent stared at me with a look that told me he truly thought me in need of medical—or psychiatric—help. Sighing, I rose.

"I was kidding, Vincent." I busied myself with my things. "I'm fine, now can we leave?"

Those words were on my list of top ten things I would never, EVER say, along with 'Look before you leap', and 'Midgar is the land of opportunity.'

Although the assassin didn't look in the least convinced of my story, he didn't pursue the matter any further. And I didn't feel like telling him my molester had called me Lucrecia, as well. Somehow, there were bonds fastening the three together, yet it wasn't apparent to me. In time…

The teenager's position as innkeeper had been replaced by an elderly man, who I guessed, was the grandfather she mentioned the day before. Vincent left the appropriate amount of gil with him while I hiked my bag up further on my shoulder, rubbing my neck where the lesion had begun to throb painfully. What the hell had bitten me? I prayed fervently that it wasn't poisonous.

When we arrived at the docks, I received another surprise, which didn't astonish me at all: we had no tickets for the ship. Vincent knew what he was doing, so I followed his orders and his footsteps without comment as he slipped past the guards to the lower decks. There we hid ourselves among the luggage and waited for the vessel to proceed away from the port. Crewmembers prowled around us, bringing in more boxes and bags, and at the same time I shivered thinking about being caught. He would eliminate them.

One particularly hefty seaman forced his way very close to our refuge spot with a large crate held in his arms, before slamming it down and turning away. I relaxed.

A large black rat squirmed its way across the floor, also in search of a new hiding place, and my heart fell right out of my chest.

I absolutely _loathed_ rats, which was odd for the sheer numbers I dealt with in the slums, and the thing certainly thought my patch of floor was the perfect location for disappearing.

Before I could scream, Vincent jerked my body roughly up against his, wrapping his arms around me and stuffing his forearm into my mouth. It was a crushing embrace, and I thought he was going to squeeze my very life out of me with his large arms. It almost seemed to be his goal. The rat saw our movement and scurried off to find another hole. We both relaxed considerably, although my hands were still trembling. Vincent kept a more loose hold on me still.

Ten more minutes passed before the sea craft's foghorn bellowed out its announcement for departure, and the great engine commenced rumbling on a level below us. The crew all left for the deck, and we were then alone. Vincent released me and stood, brushing dust away from his shirt, so I followed, stretching my legs.

"Mm, I can't wait to get to Costa del Sol," I voiced, mentally there already. "I hate the winter." He didn't respond, leaning against a large crate. I asked, "How are we going to get off the ship?"

"The same way we got on."

"That was easier, though," I objected.

"Why should this be any harder?"

"Well, there won't be anytime when this room will be deserted enough for us to get up those stairs. Someone will either be going up or down, I suspect."

"We won't be using those stairs."

"I don't see a magic door. You got one in your cloak?"

"There's another flight of stairs to the engine room."

"Oh, I get it. We'll cut a hole in the hull and _swim_ to the surface. Oh well if the ship sinks."

"From there, a ladder will take us to the main deck."

"Wow," I said after a delayed pause. "You are a piece of work, you know that?"

"I try," he answered cynically.

"Ha ha." I returned the sarcasm. "So what are we supposed to do until then?"

"Wait." He responded.

"Should've seen that one coming." I rolled my eyes. "I think I'm going to sleep."

"I will wake you when the time comes."

"I have no doubt that you will." I bunched his long cloak—which I had been wearing—under my head and closed my eyes. Even though a deep slumber never came, I fell under sleep's spell soon enough.

-

When the man who had brought me thus far roused me to awareness, I realized that no fresh memories had assaulted me while I slept, only a barrage of reruns. My life was like a horrible movie that had no point, but a ruination of repetitiveness, and I wish I could turn it off to put in something more exciting. Unfortunately, my life, unlike a movie, could not be shut off at will. Even when I tried.

The steps, which Vincent had previously mentioned, were parallel to those that led to the upper floors, only these were clearly not used very often. A carpet of grime lay thickly about like a fresh snow, and any recent footprints had already begun to evaporate. Vincent's feet barely left a mark. Mine lay out a perfect map for anyone following.

The engine room was smaller than I expected as well as noisier. The gentle hum that reverberated in the upper floors was nothing compared to the resounding crescendo of racket the colossal machines were managing to belt out, and I prayed my ears would hold. Weathered equipment lined both sides of the room, connected in the middle by long, gyratory cylinders that unnerved me, and I glanced towards Vincent in hopes of being told we didn't have to climb over them. The unsettling truth was apparent.

He smoothly walked in the direction of one of the engines, and pulled himself up, looking back to me to see if I were following. With grim determination, I did as his eyes commanded.

Jumping from engine to engine was easy, although the vibrations under my feet tickled my soles in an unpleasant way—like an itch with no way to relieve it— but the gunman didn't complain and I wasn't about to, either. When my feet safely touched solid flooring once again, the machineries' roars had begun to diminish, rolling raucously down to a halt as the cylinders ceased their rotating. Vincent mounted the ladder.

The main deck was alive with people busy preparing to dock, although none were acute enough to notice the presence of two stranger's slinking along the railing of their boat, however, I wasn't protesting. In the pandemonium of unloading goods and charting exports, the two of us were able to saunter down the gangplank without even the need to hide. Costa Del Sol unknowingly awaited us with the normal ado of tourist activity, even though we were there for reasons greatly different than a game of volleyball or sunbathing.

-

My insomnia was almost humorous, yet I couldn't seem to laugh it off—or even laugh at all, for that matter. I believe my fear of being assaulted once again still presided with and icy grip on my heart. And I even didn't feel safe with Vincent near me (he wasn't sleeping-that much I knew); it didn't seem close _enough._ Even last night when he had been sleeping next to me, his help had amounted to nothing. I almost wished he would hold me and comfort me, but that seemed silly. He wasn't my mother; he wasn't even a friend, even though he had seen me cry more times than even Cloud had. It wasn't that I didn't like to show weakness; I just didn't wish to be pessimistic, especially in front of the Lord of Pessimism, himself. And, God knows, where he was now, in front of me, behind me, even above me. That thought may have frightened me even more than the fact that my invisible molester could come back, yet I trusted Vincent. Strange as that faith was.

Possibly out of impulse, I reached my hand out from under the blankets of my bed, unsure of what I was searching for, and not even quite aware what I was doing. My fingers wrapped around something solid, and, suddenly, I was not so afraid. Smiling, comforted, I found sleep with my hand wrapped within a larger hand—one that I dreamed to be Cloud's.

-

Finally finished. I apologize this chapter was so short, and that nothing too exciting happened. Thank you so much for all the encouraging reviews I can't tell you how much I appreciate the comments. Without you, my laziness would overcome me, and I'd never update. You would think being on break would be some motivation, but noooo….


	5. Chapter V

_There was the Door to which I found no Key; There was the Veil through which I might not see. _-Omar Khayyam

* * *

In spite of the fact that I was heading towards Barret's not-so-likely doom, I enjoyed the travel to North Corel much more than any journey with Vincent so far, due to the warmth of the day, and the sweet, balmy caresses of the sun. Thinking to myself, I realized this was certainly my element: the sunshine, as it could bring about a positive attitude faster than anything I knew, except, perhaps, kisses, but those were harder to come by. They were special.

Smiling, I turned back to see Vincent lagging behind. Well, it was no surprise; the man looked as though he would be much better suited walking at night—or in the rain, but after enduring almost two weeks in the bitter cold, I felt he deserved to live in a little discomfort. Maybe if he didn't have such a dark wardrobe…

_He lent you his cloak when you were cold…_My blatant conscience reminded me, and I rolled my eyes, unintentionally picking up my stride a bit. Not that I wanted to get to North Corel any sooner.

"It would almost appear you wish to arrive ahead of schedule." Vincent observed with that old smirk in his voice, yet nonexistent on his face. I had a small inkling that he could read minds.

I scoffed, "I was under the illusion that we were already behind schedule." But I slowed down some nonetheless. In the distance the great expanse of desert stretched far into the horizon, and the hazy form of Gold Saucer could be seen shimmering in the heat even further away. I remembered being there once with Cloud. As Vincent fell in step with me, I twisted to glance at him, and saw something else out of the corner of my eye. A Bagnarada. Definitely not the most dangerous of monsters the world had to offer, but still… I had an idea to delay Vincent.

Making more of a deal out of the thing's appearance than necessary, I whipped around, pointing erratically at it and shouting, "Look out!" As I had always suspected, another revolver magically appeared in Vincent's hand, and he pointed it directly at the Bagnarada. After seeing it as no threat to us yet, he lowered the gun and glanced at me. I shrugged, "It looked close." My strategy was falling to pieces. "We had better kill it."

"To what purpose?" For a second I thought he may have guessed my idea—had read my mind again—, but perhaps not. He didn't have _that_ look.

"Well, we spotted it; I like to think of it as our responsibility." This was not a lie. Cloud, as well as Zangan, had repeated those words to me many times when training on the field, and now I felt like a true teacher, repeating the wisdom to Vincent. "Who knows? We might be helping someone down the road."

For another moment, I believed Vincent were about to move to kill the monster, and I grinned. However, things are not as they seem, and he had turned back around without even a by-your-leave, the gun disappearing once again.

"I don't have time for such nonsense." He continued walking. Sighing, I knew there was no way now to make him turn back around. The passive Bagnarada didn't even notice our presence, and I accepted defeat. Not that I had been any good at ideas anyway.

---

North Corel looked as horrible as always, but I couldn't directly say it hadn't improved since the last time I had visited. Barret certainly had enhanced the town some: the houses actually appeared to be houses instead of little shacks composed of scrap metal, and someone had attempted to grow grass in the infertile dirt. I smiled to myself as I strode alone down the main path that ran through the town towards the cable car, which led to Gold Saucer.

Casually, I climbed the dusty hill to the shanty inn, where the innkeeper glanced up as I came through the sparse doorframe. The grimy curtain that hung there served really no purpose at all, yet I gritted my teeth and held my disgust.

"Yes?" His tone was anything but polite.

"Hi, I'm here for Barret Wallace." I recited Vincent's words, "Is he in town?" Never did I feel more like a betrayer than at that moment.

"He has gone out of town for a couple days," The man answered. "He received a summoning from Midgar for a missing friend or something. Took his little girl with 'im. Can I help you with anything else? A room?" His eyes glazed my body for a swift moment, while I narrowed my own at him.

"No, thank you." I ground my teeth together. Barret was looking for me though, and, although I could not show it, my relief was unsurpassable. But that meant… if I could lead Vincent away from Midgar, towards Nibelheim or even… Rocket Town, to Cid and Shera. Not that I wished to involve them in my dilemma, but I did need their help now more than ever.

Yes. I believed this was possible. Perhaps he might even hesitate at Cosmo Canyon where Red XIII currently resided. The gunman couldn't see through this idea—could he?

"Thank you," I repeated, and strode out of the poor excuse of an inn. Barret wasn't to be blamed for the casualties cursed upon this town; he was doing the best he could for it. I acted as a normal citizen would, moving slowly towards the cable car that bore tourists to and from Gold Saucer, but instead of following its dusty trail, I clamored over the small knoll to its left behind which Vincent awaited.

He lay on his back staring at the vast sky. For a moment I thought he seemed content and peaceful, and wondered at this rare glimpse to his hidden soul, but then I saw his eyes and realized he was just… laying there. Seeing me, he stood swiftly.

"Yes?" He prompted, and I realized a macabre truth that pained me. He truly trusted me by letting me go alone into a town where Barret or someone else could easily have spotted me, and turning his back. Even more chilling, I believe I trusted him as well. Fate was impossible to reason with, but I was _not_ going to trust or have _any_ feelings at all towards this merciless assassin. What would Cloud think of me now?

What did I care what Cloud thought, though? He left me.

"Barret has gone," I lied, pretending anxiousness, "to Rocket Town. Visiting a friend."

"Then, I suppose it is to Rocket Town we must go." Vincent sighed animatedly. "This is becoming a chore."

A thousand sarcastic comments to that statement arose in my head, but I suppressed them. I didn't need Vincent to be pissed off at the moment.

"Let's move on." He said. I nodded.

---

For two days we traveled towards Nibelheim without stopping—not even at Cosmo Canyon—and over those two days the temperature increased dramatically. No longer was I quite enjoying our ventures as I once did. Vincent seemed to be doing worse than I, although the weather wasn't enough to slow him down too immensely.

At the end of the first day, we camped in the forest near a river, and I took advantage of that fact for a bath. At least to rinse off in some cool water. Vincent did not accompany me this time, but I knew he was nearby as I splashed the refreshing liquid over myself. I also knew his eyes were not watching.

"_I have no interest in you…"_

I almost snorted as I remembered the gunman's words. Now I understood that obviously he _did _have some interest in me, for his overlords certainly held no concern for me, other than I was supposed to deliver Vincent's orders to him, which I had not done successfully. But what was it he wanted of me? Who was Lucrecia and what was her connection to the supernatural presence from the other night and Vincent? Impulsively, I placed my fingers delicately on the spot where I'd been bitten. It didn't hurt; it was merely a scab now.

The icy waters swirling calmly about my thighs and a noisy rustling in the brush along the bank of the river reminded me of where I was, and that monsters would not hesitate to attack— whether I be naked or not. Rapidly I splashed a bit more water over my hastily cooling body, and moved to dress on the mossy bank, self-consciously alert as I dried off for a moment or two. Vincent was at our campfire when I returned.

He said nothing as I sat down, and our silence continued throughout our meager meal. I did have some words to say, but I was afraid that if I opened my mouth my guilt over lying to my "kidnapper" would give away my scheme. Removing the idea from my mind I took a furious drink of water. Better to just go to sleep, I decided, and besides I was exhausted anyway.

About an hour later after much tossing and turning I managed to fall into a restless sleep, but in the morning it felt as though I hadn't gotten any sleep at all.

---

Vincent awoke me at dawn, and, after a short breakfast, we continued on our journey. I could hardly feel my legs anymore. At least all this walking would put me in the best shape I'd been in years.

The Canyons passed like a blur in my mind as I hardly remembered the hundreds─ perhaps _thousands_─ of steps I took. Once I recalled glancing up at Cosmo Canyon for an instant, but it was far off in the distance, and we clearly weren't stopping in for a lovely visit. I wasn't too sure if I trusted my eyes against the believable mirages that decorated the horizon, and Cosmo Canyon might have been one of them. Finally, Vincent called our voyage to a stop and built a fire. I was in too much of a daze of exhaustion to think. I collapsed on the ground the moment our meal of edible─ but not delectable─ meal bars and water was over. I slept "like a log" the entire night, and if Vincent would have told me I snored the following dawn, I would have had no doubt about his honesty.

Morning came on an unwanted schedule, and the gunman did _not_ mention anything about my sleeping. I doubted he slept at all by the looks of him, nor did he need it. Secretly, when my thoughts were not focused upon my aching limbs and desperate need of water or food, I pondered his sleeping habits. Although I had only been with the man for a little more than two weeks, he seemed to only need one night of rest at the end of each to continue going. There was the time when I woke in the cave after my pitiful collapse in the cold, and then the night in the inn in Junon. Between those two times I hadn't even seen him lay down at night. Maybe he suffered from insomnia, I didn't know.

Even though my fatigue remained with me throughout the walk to Nibelheim, I felt a bit better than the day before. A bit.

The quaint little town seemed exactly as I remembered it when I left it odd-some years ago. The inn sat next to the convenience store, and I felt a wave of relief when I saw my house and Clouds still beside each other. Some strange and unjustifiable doubt had secretly passed over me in the past few days, one that I refused to acknowledge or believe until now: that Cloud's house would be gone. Or mine. One or the other, and maybe both. Shaking my head, I saw a man moving about inside what once had been my room and wondered momentarily if the Shin-Ra still had actors—_frauds_—placed in the town since the incident that had occurred a number of years ago were still living here. Or maybe real people had moved in. _The incident. _That was around the same time I received the long scar that ran across my chest, and that wound was very much a part of it.

Sephiroth had burned the entire town to the ground, therefore, to avoid a crisis with the media and security, Shin-Ra rebuilt the town and replaced its former residents with impostors, while taking all those who survived the event for testing. My teacher, Zangan rescued me from that particular fate by transporting me to Midgar for treatment. Soon after that I returned to Nibelheim, using my will power to gain my father's house back and a couple weeks later Cloud came to the town and moved in next door with two people claiming to be his parents. He believed them, although I did not, and he did not remember the town burning. Strangely enough it seemed that I was the only one who did, so I kept it to myself. I figured the fake citizens wouldn't hesitate to silence me if my mouth were to begin leaking the truth.

Cloud abandoned me a couple years later, and I went back to Midgar where I had a friend named Barret Wallace who aided me in opening a bar—7th Heaven—in the Sector Seven slums. Since then, I hadn't been to Nibelheim, no welcoming memories waited here. In the darkening twilight I made out the towering form of the old well that stood in the center of the town. The relic still stood in remembrance of the town's beginnings, but I was sure in daylight that it even now appeared to be a pile of junk heaped in the square. Cloud's promise to me… The piece did hold some sentimental value.

Vincent didn't pause to admire the well, though, and he continued through the town past the inn, the store, and Cloud's old house towards the mountain. Suddenly, I wondered where he was going. Certainly, he knew of the inn's location, and even if he didn't, no one could miss its sign.

Tentatively, I said, "Vincent? You passed the inn."

"We are not going to the inn." He responded in the dark. My confusion was brief, before I thought of the one place that this assassin could possibly live in and it would _suit_ him. The Shin-Ra mansion. My suspicions confirmed, Vincent came to a halt before the large, vine-encased gates with rust coppering their once pewter color. My childhood fear overtook me irrationally, and I attempted to thrust it to the further fathoms of my mind. Such things were beyond my age. The fear was soon replaced with unease.

Amazingly, Vincent forced the gates noiselessly open wide enough for both of us to slip through without alerting the entire town. When he closed the gates once more and replaced a lock I hadn't first noticed, it didn't look any different.

The mansion appeared more like a fortress than when I had last seen it a number of years ago, with blackening boards that had once been painted white, but the paint was now curling off like insects. The windows had gathered much grime over time, and the broken ones were haphazardly boarded shut as though the person assigned to that particular job had spent a total of two minutes on each window. I didn't blame the man, if it were me, I would have repaired the house in record time only to be away from it. The yard wasn't quite overgrown with weeds, a few twisted from the ground here and there, but for the most part the lawn looked dead, and the front door looked like a giant mouth waiting to swallow Vincent and me the moment he turned the knob. Of course, it didn't, yet I cowered behind him nonetheless.

Inside the house was even gloomier than outside, and, although I could not see a thing in the dim shadows, I knew the interior décor was far worse than the outer. Was anything waiting for us in the dark? The very idea chilled my bones, and I trembled.

"Nothing will hurt you." Vincent reassured, and I started more at his voice than his words, suddenly aware of the grip I held on his elbow. Jerking my hands away, I said nothing while following his shady silhouette, but that proved nearly impossible when I ran into his back as he stopped abruptly.

"There is no electricity in this house. Let me lead you." Vincent commanded in a voice that seemed like a polite offer, yet I knew better. And I pretended as though letting Vincent put his arms around me was the most horrible fate. Although I particularly didn't like being in the embrace of a murderer and the hired assassin of one of my dearest friends, the fact that I was in a man's arms—well arm _and _claw— and I felt comfortable there seemed to matter most in an awful way. I didn't _care._ I felt absolutely terrible, but I didn't care in the least.

He directed my footsteps up the large flight of stairs before taking a left, another left, and then a right, before guiding my body onto an ancient bed. The covers smelled musty, and pillow held the distinct aroma of mildew. Although I wasn't particularly tired, I knew Vincent wouldn't allow any room for protest on that night, so I kept silent. Just this once I held my tongue, and I was oddly rewarded when the gunman cupped my cheek easily in his large gloved hand, caressing my face gently. I didn't care. I didn't _care._

Sleep then cascaded gently over me as the effects of a sleep materia worked its magic against my dulling senses. I didn't care as I lightly kissed his open palm.

---

The next day I stayed indoors under Vincent's wishes, and came down in the morning to a simple breakfast of toast and eggs, also under his wishes—although I did not believe Vincent had made the meal. He watched me eat from across the small table in the aging kitchen, while I chewed, awkwardly aware of the quiet in the room, and managed to swallow down a mouthful. Finally, Vincent spoke when I didn't take another bite.

"There are rules you must abide by while staying here," he said and I nearly laughed. I knew something like this would come up. "First you must stay out of the basement. Under no circumstances will you enter that area, understand? Second, you will not leave the mansion. No one must see you, or else measures will be taken that you do not want on your shoulders." I assumed the measures would be death. "Thirdly, everything will be brought to you; there is no need for you to go looking. I believe that is all. I will answer any reasonable questions or demands."

After break fast I didn't see him for the rest of the day.

---

The Mansion was even larger on the interior than what it appeared on the exterior, but the rooms were not difficult to navigate. The large foyer contributed most to its size. There were a couple rooms that had been completely ruined from God-knows-what and some that seemed to be mere storage space that the owners had no intention of taking their contents. Maybe the boxes of debris were Vincent's although I highly doubted it. I didn't think Vincent would be this messy, and I realized the gunman could care less about the rest of his house. The reason he wanted me to stay away from the basement was because that was his lair. I guess I respected that, but moreover I feared his anger.

Upstairs was a pleasant sunroom overgrown with unkempt flowers and plants. I believe that place was my favorite in the entire building, and, with nothing else to keep me busy, I spent the remainder of the day washing its grimy glass walls and ceiling as best I could, and pruning the plants. Even when twilight fell, the task was not completed, however my work was significant.

I ate a small meal in the kitchen before going to bed without even talking to Vincent.

How was I supposed to ask answerable inquiries if he wasn't even around to question?

---

The following morning I managed to tumble down the entire flight of stairs from top to bottom, bringing Vincent rushing from my sleeping quarters, which aroused my suspicions of his whereabouts and possibly the entrance to the basement. I walked away from the incident with a couple bruises, bumps and an injured pride. He laughed with his eyes.

"We leave at ten for Rocket Town. Leave your things, we will be returning _afterwards_." Afterwards. After I stalled his intentions and he maimed me. After that?

Later, alone in my room, I examined a stone pillar randomly placed in a corner, wondering at its logic. Certainly it wasn't a support. Maybe this was the way into the crypt below. It seemed coherent. Following a hunch like a detective on a case, or a hound on a scent, I went to the room below mine—carefully mastering the stairs— and finding the same pillar in that room too. The space looked as though a demolition crew had moved in and destroyed every piece of furniture, painting, and flooring it could. The stone tower seemed to be the only thing in one piece.

"Tifa?" Caught guilty I stiffened fearfully at Vincent's voice, turning slowly to face him surreptitiously. "Are you looking for something?" Translation: _are you breaking a rule?_

"No. Is it time?" My tone was graciously steady. He said nothing, which I interpreted as a yes, following him out of the clutter to the entrance hall. The manor no longer seemed to be an object of fear to me any longer, now that I had been inside and realized it was merely an old house inhabited by a ruthless assassin, but truly the place was beautiful—in an ancient-freaky-haunted-mansion sort of way.

I found it strange Vincent was willing to march through Nibelheim in midmorning, but I soon understood why he decided to depart now and not at night. Dark storm clouds churned angrily above our heads, and a chilled wind blew through the humid air, contrasting with the unnatural heat. I hoped the downpour wouldn't be too fierce, remembering the awful gales that rolled through when I was but a child. Being mere miles from the ocean, the small town had never been spared by the hurricane season either.

I just hoped the rains would hold off long enough for us to cross over the mountain.

---

And that's it for pre-typed chapters. I feel like an insect trying to crawl out from under the time-to-write-your-own-shit-again thumb, but it's got me pinned good. No more running, but I get sick and tired of every time I write something out for this little ficcy something happens to the papers. My entire chapter seven (eight maybe?) was lost to wherever lost things go and the additions to chapter six were left with a friend who went out of state. Okay, I'm done whining, but it helps. So do reviews so give me your thoughts! They feed creativity!

Hehe and I noticed that at the time I wrote this chapter I'd beaten Resident Evil 4 only six times. Oh, that seems like forever ago! Hard to believe Leon and I have kicked ass almost five times that now. Addicted, eh?


	6. State of Being

I am alive!

This will be replaced with chapter six sometime in the near future (haha if anyone really cares :p), I just want you to know I haven't forgotten or forsaken this little ficcy! Time is just eating itself alive and I'm still trying to find a way to keep up with it. And I'm still deciding whether to trash the ending I have and stretch this thing out a little more or keep it and give you what your reading for (which is some VinTi action). Major editing is still going on (although I doubt its gonna help), and the final product is moving about as fast as the cars I manage to get behind every morning…which is VERY SLOW.

If only life moved as slow as they do…

But I've bought myself a one-way ticket to the end and I plan to see it through. Thank you so much for all the support I've received so far and I can't wait to get this show back on the road to completion. Just a small hiatus.

And there you have it.

Sincerely,

The Chai Addict


End file.
